


Baby you magic

by SC182



Series: the end of the world as we know it [2]
Category: Fast Five (2011), Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Mpreg, disturbing imagery, vague spoliers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SC182/pseuds/SC182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deleted scene from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/802555?view_full_work=true">"And it's me and you"</a>. Takes place before Chapter 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby you magic

**Author's Note:**

> _But nah, baby you magic_  
>  Today you have it, shit happens  
> Make sure the plane you on is bigger  
> Than your carry-on baggage  
> Everybody go through stuff  
> Life is a gift love, open it up  
> You're a child of destiny  
> You're a child of my destiny
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters herein. The main characters as well as any supporting characters are the property of their creators and Universal Pictures. Any deviation (or deviant behavior) from the originals, however, is mine.
> 
> A/N: Let's handwave science and physiological improbabilities, okay? Also, vague spoilers for Fast 6 contained below.

“Hear me out, man. I’m telling you if you want at least one of them to sound like an upstanding citizen, then _Roman_ is the name to go with. What’s more upstanding and all future government scandal sounding than that?” Rome swore. “It’s a true Christian name.”

Dom regarded Pearce for a stretch of stony seconds. To some things, a response wasn’t necessary; to others, it was important to track the start and finish of the rambling road of crazy that the other person was trying to take them on.

Dom scratched the back of his neck disinterestedly, already wondering how Brian would react if Dom just tossed Pearce in the trunk, crossed the national border and left Pearce on some tree dense Haitian hillside.  Obviously, Brian would be pissed. Not lowercased pissed but chuck a wrench, grab Mia and perform some Mission Impossible-esque rescue operation that would probably result in another international incident and possibly his babies getting the backseat treatment, in order to save Pearce from the consequences of his mouth.

So Dom decided against pseudo-kidnapping Pearce and decided to humor with humorlessly instead. “Upstanding citizen, huh? Then how do you explain … _you_?”

Rome’s mile wide smile shrank faster than polyester in hot water. “Don’t worry about me,” he sassed, “Imma always be the special case.”

“Yeah, capital ‘S’ special,” Dom said, cutting a sideways smirk at Pearce’s puppy dog glare.

 Rome showed rare restraint by ignoring the jibe. “Now I’m tryna help you and Bri get this name situation in check, but you actin’ all _stank_ and whatnot, like nobody can tell you anything. It’s called constructive criticism…”

Again, Dom wasn’t sure Rome quite knew the full details of what the term meant. There was a part of him that wanted to blame Mia for sending him on this mission with Roman ‘Constant Pain in Dom’s Ass’ Pearce, but the fact of the matter was that it was Brian’s urging that had sent them out of the door.

Pearce was still chattering on, giving his mouth a full workout. “—just saying _Ro-man_ and _Ro-mana_ have a nice ring to it. Hell, you could throw in Romando, Romano, Ramanda, Ramada, Romaine--”

Dom took a launching step off the Challenger’s gleaming side panel he’d been leaning on. “If the next word out of your mouth is Tito, I’ll have you deported.”

Rome threw his hands up in frustration and stomped a few paces away, all the while muttering that Toretto was lucky he was Bri’s Baby Daddy or his dome would be a lot less shiny if Rome got his hands on him.

Rome could have made the trip by himself. He hadn’t needed Dom to come along to play translator or navigator or scowling chaperone. In Rome’s experience, a winning smile, easy swagger, and handful of bills always made people friendly and interested, language be damned. Plus, Big Homie, in Rome’s estimable opinion, needed Rosetta Stone or some shit, because his Spanish was whack. Like gringo in cargo shorts on a National Geographic Special whack.

But Rome would keep that little nugget of superior knowledge to himself. Couldn’t go around just telling folks the bitter truth and whatnot all the time, or else the world would be full of hurt feelings and blown open forehead veins. And Dom’s? Well, that forehead vein was throbbing like it was in the middle of a merengue marathon. Rome didn’t think that shit was quite healthy.

Between the two of them they had their cargo. All items he’d brought over on his plane, officially called the “Ro-Jet” and outfitted with sexy paint on the tail to tell all the homies and the haters who was big pimpin’ in the mile high club, spelling out, ‘It’s Roman, Bitches!’. He was so proud.

“Are we done here?” Dom asked, well and truly ready to be done at the airport and done with Pearce’s shenanigans.

“Yep, I got everything.”

“Good.” Dom was already making for the driver’s seat of the Challenger, when Rome pointed to the five foot tall carnival-sized teddy bear still seating on the pavement. “Trunk’s full!” Dom shouted over his shoulder.   It wasn’t, he just didn’t see the reason any infant would need a five-foot tall teddy bear, much less two of them.

This was all Brian and Mia’s fault. Mia got some blame because Dom suspected that the little conversation he’d walked in on this morning after breakfast was less friendly chatter and more a game of catch, where subtle flirtatious game was the ball and neither of them seemed to miss the intent of the words being tossed round.

Roman Pearce dating his sister?

Hell no.

Then Brian, who was on the doorstep of forty weeks, give a day or two, was constantly switching literally from hot to cold and touch-starved to touch-overwhelmed. At this point, Dom didn’t know what to do for him, do with him, or what to do with himself. This time of waiting it out and allowing the twins to make their appearance at their own pace was testing their frayed patience and schooling them for a lifetime of challenges.

Brian was in rare form that morning. His back was killing him and Dom’s watchful eye—hovering, Brian would say—along with Rome’s steady stream of mouth vomit and his attempt to eat them out of house and home had pushed him to his last reserves of calm.

“Just help him get his stuff, _please_.” Brian had asked and Dom had obliged. Both of them knowing the extra stress wasn’t good for any of them.

Sure they had options, which they had considered, but Brian hadn’t quite reached the overripe stage, so they were still willing to let nature take its time. But nature needed to get the lead out, because Dom couldn’t take watching Brian’s pendulous shuffle that made him look like a penguin (Pearce’s words, not his) or the sharp curvature in his spine from the steady growth in pressure on the frontend, looking all too much like it could snap at any given time like a string pulled too impossibly tight.

Rome hefted the giant teddy bear and shoved it into Brian’s car or his car for the interim.  Dom tracked him as Rome tried to shove the bear in the already tight backseat that was heavily crowded with a mountain load of baby gifts. When that failed, Rome stuffed the bear in the front partially vacant passenger seat and snapped the seatbelt around it with hostile click.

“What?” He said looking up at Dom, his forehead beginning to go shiny from sweat and frustration. “I can’t have grizzly here flopping around through the sharp curves.”

“True, but you coulda left them with Customs, too.” Dom couldn’t blame the airport for keeping Rome’s ton of baby swag for further investigation.  The last thing he wanted was to take a forty-five minute trip out to the airport to collect gadgets and gizmos that Rome had seen on the nesting version of Cribs.

Rome grinned. “But I didn’t, so you’re welcome.” He slammed the door shut. “Listen man, I get that everyone’s on high alert waiting for Brian to bust like a kid’s piñata, but, I’m telling you if you woulda followed my instructions then we’d have Romeo and Romeisha already here and none of this Yellow Level-Red Level bull.”

The balls on this guy truly astounded Dom. He didn’t know whether to laugh or smack him one. Rome’s last bit of text wisdom before he popped up on their doorstep like the world’s biggest jack in a box read: _Not that I want to think about this, but if you do your thang, like really do your thang, then those two  will come slip n’ sliding out. You’re welcome._

The truth was they’d tried it. Like _really_ tried it on the bed, in the garage, in the grass, in the shower, on the couch, on the beach, which Dom did not recommend and they were still waiting. Even Rome’s uncanny advice had proven to be exhaustible.

Dom leveled Rome with a look that had his snarky grin sliding off his face and him crab walking around the nose of the car at fast-forward speed. “Look, Pearce, I’m about five seconds from--” Then he stopped because his phone rang.

The display read ‘Mia’ and he answered, the sound of blood rushing in his ears competing aggressively with the sound of her voice. “…get to San Sebastian now…” she said or that was all he heard as he sprang into action and vaulted behind the wheel.

“It’s time?” Rome asked to no verbal response but took the roar of the Challenger’s engine coming on line as a sign of confirmation and whooped, “Yeah, let’s do this, Big Poppa!” Then he, too, was behind the wheel and ready to roll.

“Keep up, Pearce. I ain’t coming back for you if you get lost,” said Dom, as he peeled off with a cloud of exhaust and the impressions of clawed rubber in the asphalt.

“Don’t worry about me, bruh. I got this. The question is if you’ve got this. ” Then they were gone, doing their best to eat up the fifty-five minute trip back so San Sebastian’s.

Pearce’s laugh carried on the wind.

* * *

They pulled into the gates of San Sebastian thirty minutes later. The last three had seen them eating up the winding, narrow seaside curves, interweaving tight and dangerously around blind corners. On any other day, Dom might have been impressed by Pearce’s ability to slingshot past him a time or two, but today, it was barely a blip on his radar.

The scattered flock of monjas regarded the two noisy cars and drivers with stern looks that carried the sting of yardstick whippings to the palm. It was enough to almost drench Dom’s hot running blood and anchor his wits and flush away the steady swell of panic that roiling in his gut.

They could see Mia rounding through the long hall leading to the yard. She easily dodged the stray monja or two, whose waves of disapproval couldn’t penetrate her aurora of ‘I’m about to be an aunt and don’t give a damn, Sisters’, then she braked hard in front of them.

Rome clapped him on the back. “Showtime, Big Homie, keep Bri calm and the rest will work itself out.” Rome coached, excitement and sunny optimism vibrating through his touch.

The excitement on Mia’s face was more restrained, concern pulling the corners of her lips into an uneasy smile. Before he could ask what was wrong, she plowed ahead. “Room 206 and Rome’s right: keep calm. Brian needs it.” She hugged him and rubbed his arms reassuringly, then moved around him to stand with Pearce.  

Despite all that he’d done and survived to this point, he’d never felt more unsure and unsteady; like the very heart of him was set to rattle apart as if under the pressure of a perpetual paint mixer. He’d said to himself a thousand times that he was ready for this. Had told Brian just as much when Brian confessed his own doubts of whether he could see it through or make a good parent. It had been so easy to offer up words then, pulling out the truths that he and Brian blindly pretended weren’t there and only affirmed what the universe apparently already knew: they were meant for this.

Dom’s feet hadn’t moved an inch. That shoring up he’d done internally had locked his muscles up tight and no crowbar or WD-40 would get them moving.

He could feel the transition of Rome’s grin from concerned to heated on his back. “Man, if you don’t put some pep in that step--” he began to threaten, “Imma kick your ass. Told you already that you got this like Jordan’s got rings. Now Bri needs you and your too tight shirt wearing-ass needs to get the steppin' like yesterday.”

Roman Pearce doing what he did best was enough to get Dom over his insecurity inertia. Dom could say many things about Pearce, most of which revolved around how much of a pain in the ass he was, but he would give it to him that he was staunchly loyal to Brian. Always looking out for him even if his methods left much to be desired and many more desires for his mouth to remain absolutely shut. He had Brian’s interest at heart and made Dom realize that he needed to as well.

Dom bounced his shoulders like a boxer gearing up for a fight, then he turned and flashed Mia and Rome a look that said all systems were a go. Mia seemed to take an eased breath and gave him two thumbs up. “Get in there, Big Bro,” she urged, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” Dom said almost to the hall, but first, he’d cool down with one last parting shot. “Hey Pearce, when I’m done we’ll see if you and your massive forehead can take me on.” His bass laughter echoed off the halls as he raced to 206.

Rome’s pouted, “That’s not even right,” following him as he neared the double set of hall doors. Rome’s final bellowed demand of “Find out if there’re snacks,” slipping through the door behind him. Dom’s mood was cresting on endorphins and renewed confidence, so he only laughed harder as the room numbers grew larger and his proximity to Brian nearer.

Pearce was right: he had this.

* * *

Room 206 was not as Dom expected.

What he expected to walk into was a tranquil space with Brian under clean white sheets and monjas flitting back and forth across the room like blue and white hummingbirds. Maybe the doc waiting on standby until the first signs of the real fireworks began, maybe passing the time telling another awful joke or two that managed to still make Brian laugh.

 What he got was this: utter chaos.

First, a pair of hamfisted monjas tried to push him out the way he came in. He tried to explain, as calmly as he could, despite the impressive show of moving him backwards, that he belonged in there and that those were his babies that seemed to have Brian tied in fits.

It wasn’t until Brian’s shout, strained and borderline snarling, and snapped at the pair to “Dejalo solo” that they relented and Dom sprinted over to the bed.

Second, Brian was red in the face, redder than Dom thought was humanly possible. All the veins in his neck standing out in stark relief, looking angry—no, furious, as sweat drenched him, the bed and the scrubs he’d been given.

“I’m here.” He said as a monja came to him with a fresh set of scrubs. “How’re you doing?”

Brian had been bowed forward head leaning so far forward his chin had almost touched his chest and he popped open his eyes now electric blue as they swam in a sea of stressed pink. “Just.fucking.peachy,” he gasped dripping with sarcasm.

He relaxed marginally, able to relax for a hot second, giving Dom another chance to take in the sights. The nuns who weren’t glaring daggers at him were clumped around the doc who sat between the wide bloody cavern of the sheet and Brian’s strapped down feet. The doc’s face was hidden partially by the sheet and the mask over his mouth but the sisters standing as nurses were all readable.

Brian was trussed up like he was set for alien vivisection. His feet and legs were immobilized while his hands remained free which were dug deep in the bedding, his knuckles as white as the sheets. 

He lulled his head back and forth tiredly. “Didn’t think you would make it.” His voice was raspy and scratchy like a broken record. “Almost thought...” he trailed off with a sudden sharp inhalation.

Dom recognized the wave of pain for what it was. He disentangled Brian’s fingers from the sheet. He all but wrenched them free as they were locked up so tight and instead endured the slicing pressure of Brian’s blunt fingernails digging into his skin with quiet resolve.

“Almost thought what?” Dom prodded as Brian neared the peak of the wave. “C’mon tell me.” It was important to shift his focus from what he couldn’t control to something that he could.

Brian cut one steely eye at him, squeezing them shut again and finally relaxing after what seemed like forever. He exhaled raggedly, “Almost thought you wouldn’t make it.” He breathed again, steadier this time. “Either cuz you’d be too slow or cuz you’d popped Rome a good one and left him in the middle of nowhere.”

Brian knew him all too well. The temptation had been there, and Brian knew it too. Dom gave him a soft edged smile and rolled his big shoulders nonchalantly. “The thought may have crossed my mind. But too slow? Me? Never.” He said with a swell of cocksure attitude. “They must have you on the good stuff,  cuz you’d hafta be high to think that.”

Brian had loosened his grip without letting go. “Had to check,” he murmured, then quieted.

Dom knew when the next wave was on them: first, by Brian’s rapid staccato of his blinks and then the way he rolled forward and Dom used his free hand to act as a steel support to keep him up.

This wave was shorter but still seemed interminably long as the red flush of Brian’s skin grew louder and closer to apoplectic.  “I’m so going to kick your ass.” Brian snarled between his clenched teeth.

Dom nodded absently, shifting his focus from Brian to the doc and back again. “Yeah?” He said curiously. “Get through this and we’ll see.”

Then it was over and they returned to a humming state of rest.

He could let Brian rest, pacing himself through this was important. Dom could easily muddle through comparing this to a five hundred series rather than a quarter mile but didn’t think Brian would appreciate the coaching.

So he threw out, “Rome gave me some names. _Interesting names_ ,” he clarified.

Brian closed his eyes and smiled to himself. “You didn’t tell him we’re good on that front?”

“Nope, never got a chance.” Because Pearce’s mouth was a force of nature. “Then he made me interested.”

Dom watched the shallow rise and fall of Brian’s chest with keen interest. He still hadn’t come down from breathing hard like a thoroughbred in the Kentucky Derby.

“He’s creative. I bet,” Brian said, licking his dry lips, “that he gave you, like, twenty names all based on his name. Starting with Roman--” he grunted as the doc did something new, “and probably ending with Romulus and Remus.”

“Close.” Dom agreed.

Then the next wave began. And the one after that. Then too many to count.

Another thing he noticed was the blood. A lot of blood. Those clean white sheets he’d imagined were bunched and rucked up near Brian’s hips and the high swell of his belly stained strawberry red. It was fresh blood and didn’t look reassuring as a sign of life.  

The waves had gotten shorter in the meantime but more painful.

During the last one, Brian had almost worked his foot free of the straps to front kick the doc square in the face.

Dom grabbed his chin to bring them eye to eye. “Look at me. Focus on me. Nothing else, just me. “ He uttered in a bass laden voice. “Think about the toy Chargers we’ll get them. They’ll grow up to be all about muscle.”  Dom teased, viciously.

“No, Skylines,” Brian said between breaths, "…and over my dead body.” Brian bit back.

Dom threw on his most charming grin. “You say that now, but you know it’s true.”

Brian was hit by another sharp peak to ratchet up the pain from a bad eight to a skin-peeling thirteen. “Que te jodas.” He growled, sinking his fingers impossibly deeper into Dom’s flesh. Now there was blood on Dom, too.

Dom had to laugh and he did which only torqued up Brian’s glare from stun to all-out kill. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” He chuckled and debated complimenting him on his flawless execution and accent when saying ‘go fuck yourself’.

“Mamabicho.”

Now Dom’s brows shot up to his hairline and a sister or two might have crossed themselves. One of the nurses at the end of the bed snorted into her hand and tried to cover her smile as Dom caught her eyes.

“If I’d done that then we wouldn’t be here.” Dom didn’t rev up to smart off too because he felt the tension in Brian’s spine flee, just loosen like snapping a knot from a catch.

He sagged into the mattress like a puppet with its strings cut. All the tension bled away, making him appear boneless.

The doc stood up then giving Dom a glimpse of the horrors beneath the sheet. His gloves and sleeves were bathed with  varying shades of crimson and brown as was a large block of his uniform top. A nurse reached up and undid his mask, and the doc’s perpetually smiling mouth was set in a grimace.

“We have come to an impasse: neither twin is in the right position to pass through naturally and Mr. O’Conner’s blood pressure is dangerously elevated…”

Dom looked at the bloody hands. “You were--” He didn’t finish as he envisioned twisting bloody hands.

“We tried to turn them but it didn’t work. They are very large,” he offered up with a small smile. “Given Mr. O’Conner’s history with anesthesia and where we are now, it is my professional opinion that we administer a local and surgically deliver. It will be painful unfortunately…but it’s the best option at this time.”

Dom couldn’t make this decision. He never wanted to hurt Brian—not intentionally, not ever. But Brian was on the ropes, which Dom could see, and the doc wasn’t painting a picture that seemed much better if they waited.

“Do it.” Brian wrestled the weight of making a decision from him. “If it’s the right thing, then it’s the right then, so get it done.” His voice was reedy and the danger the doc speak of passed over his face.

Dom whipped around to stare down at Brian. “What. Wait.”

“No, Dom.”  He said he looked so tired.

They been at this for hours, and it was only now that Dom realized how exhausted Brian looked. Skin having gone from paroxysm bright to clammy and pale. The doc was right, and the danger was right on the surface now.

Suddenly, he was afraid.

 This fear was nothing like before. When he’d been outside, Dom had a bad case of nerves, just a case of fatherhood stage fright. This, however, was completely different. The doc didn’t need his permission but waited nonetheless. He nodded silently and resumed sitting on the roller stool by the bed.

From the jump, Dom had bought into the idea of a baby, of him and Brian, of babies later and just being family. He’d never considered this. He should have known better. In life, there were no rewards that came without risks, and these babies were a reward in spite of years of risks and improbable successes.

Brian’s eyes lay closed but he was very much awake. He’d found Dom’s hand as soon as Dom was once again in place and hadn’t let go. Held it in a grip that was neither firm nor loose, just a touch that allowed their calluses to brush and catch.

“We’ll be alright,” he assured as he’d done months before. Now the stakes were different.  “Promise.”

“Damn right, O’Conner.”  Because Dom couldn’t fathom being like his dad, who was half whole after his mom got sick and died, or being like Brian’s mom, living but irreparably fractured.

“You’re not leaving me with diaper duty.” Dom joked, making Brian’s lips twitch into a shadow of a smile.

Brian’s eyes remained shuttered as the doc and the nurses prepared for the final go. “You know all about crap…since you talk…so much of it.”

Dom watched their activity, eyes going wider at the introduction of trays of gleaming metal tools with smooth sides and sharp tipped edges. Logically, he knew they were designed to heal, but the only thing apparent was how much they could hurt.

“Have you always been this mouthy or did I miss something?”

Brian’s bated chuckle, hollowed in his throat and sounded like it was a thousand miles away. “Naw, you’re just finally taking notice.” _Almost too late_ , went unsaid but implied as thickly as the smell of antiseptic in the air. “Good eye.” Again, before it was too late.

For years, they’d been like stars orbiting each other, gradually pulling and repelling each other in random patterns. Now that they’d collided to make something—a new world, a new universe, a new life— and now it seemed so tenuous. They’d constantly moved along, even with this, just made the decision and abided by the opinions and advice of those more well-informed than them and kept moving. Dom had never questioned why the universe saw fit to allow dudes to have babies or why Brian could. He’d just accepted what was, appreciated it, and continued moving.

It didn’t seem fair to finally have everything and then be forced to possibly watch it slide through his fingers.

Dom had to say something. Needed to before it was too late and all he had were regrets that lingered like old scars,  reminiscent of deep feelings and fading more with each passing day until erased down to numb bluntness.

“So I, um,” he started, “—you know--”

When Brian looked at him, the blue swam in a bed of miserable pink, and the wetness on his face that Dom had mistaken for sweat was now honest in its origin. They were so bright; Dom almost had to look away. “Dom, I know. Maybe I’ve always known.” Brian said.

Even now, there were still barriers to the things they did and didn’t do. This is where their deficiencies were most evident, in the words that they could not say and in the things that they could not change.

Dom didn’t reach out for him, because Brian drew him and sealed them together and kissed him first without reservation. It was a kiss that Dom had never had before: a confusing combination of soft and hard that spoke contradicting actions—hello and goodbye—and made promises that might not be kept; and Dom held on until the doc said it was time to begin.

He drew back, bringing them forehead to forehead, just breathing each other in and the reality of now for a few seconds longer. “Ride or die,” he declared with thoughts of the past and the present.

“Always.”

And that was a promise for the future.

* * *

What happened next was not beautiful.

It wasn’t peaceful or wonderful.

It was brutal.

It was terrifying.

It was the worst thing Dom had ever seen.

There was a weird moment when everything just stopped. It was after Twin One (his girl) was halfway to becoming a baby burrito and Twin Two (his boy) was handed into the waiting arms of a smiling sister and the monitors started screaming in the red and Brian just stopped. Just stopped everything: talking, crying, moving, everything.

Dom had never liked the passenger seat. It was too passive a position for him. He always needed the freedom to move and change, see and do, but not just watch. But he watched then as the doc and the nurses tried to keep some of Brian inside, instead of spilling out and get his heart back into motion.

For one hundred and fourteen seconds, he was in the passenger seat and it was fucking awful.

Then Brian was back and only half awake as the doc handed over the girl and the boy. Brian squinted hard at them, his vision still fuzzy from the drugs, pain, and surge of endorphins, as Dom held them up for him to see.

Brian cut his eyes from one to the other and back at Dom without saying a word. He gave Dom one particularly drawn out stare that caused Dom’s grin of paternal pride to cinch inwards from the corners.

“What?” Finally he asked, confused.  

Brian snorted, then snickered. “That’s what almost fifteen pounds of human looks like?” The raspy held tight to his voice but it was steadier now, less thread thin and vacant. “Not doing that again.”

“That’s for damn sure.” Dom agreed.

Brian took another look then slowly reached out to touch one set of tiny hands and then the other. When his lips twisted into his signature smirk, Dom knew that look was just for him.

“What do you think, O’Conner?” He had his baby girl—his Princess—in his right arm and his boy—his Prince—in his left. “How the specs look to you?”

“They’ve got your hair.” Brian observed, looking at the three bare heads in a row.

Dom paused as he looked beyond the ten fingers and ten toes and saw what Brian saw. Of course, he laughed.

Then they were both laughing and the babies were crying, and it was once again easy.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Jay-Z featuring B.I.C's ["Glory"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGFAFvV4dpI)
> 
>  
> 
> Translations:  
>  **Monjas** : Nuns  
>  **Dejalo solo** : Leave him alone  
>  **Que te jodas** : Go fuck yourself  
>  **Mamabicho** : Cocksucker


End file.
